Eights
by The Pencil Of the Gods
Summary: Abutin, that was his name, the first name given to him. It meant "to reach" and he did certainly that. He reached for everything he wanted with everything he had. This is the story of an Eighth Campione, and that's all there is to it.
1. Coming of the Storm

**AN:** _Hello there! So anyway, this is mostly to help soothe my writers block, so don't expect it to update regularly, since I'm focusing on Rosario's and Phantasm's as well as Lunar Moon._

_I'm also using this story to get a feel of writing OC's with different personalities. It hasn't quite gotten there yet, but hey, it's a prologue chapter!_

_Tell me what you think okay?!_

* * *

An Island in the midst of thousands of others, it was a small, unimpressive and most of all normal island.

This is where our story starts.

On that island, there was a village, one of several. Actually, to call it a village was flattering it; the place consisted of no more than a few wooden huts.

The residents were dark, tanned folk. Not black, nor white, they were the ones in between. Each of them dressed in tribal clothing with strange, fascinating patterns weaved on them.

It was the kind of place that could make you feel like you had gone back in time. There wasn't a trace of modern civilization anywhere.

Inside that village there was a small school, one set up so the residents wouldn't be that cut-off from society, and one that help them improve their lives bit-by-bit. If the school hadn't existed, the island may have indeed gone back in time, in an almost literal sense.

"Teacher!"

The teacher turned to look at the one calling him. The man was a missionary in his mid-forties who had taken up this job because of a strong sense of responsibility.

"What is it, Dimalanta?"

"The others are picking on Abutin again!"

The teacher sighed. Not again, he thought.

Abutin was an unusual child and a bit of a problematic case for him.

He was an orphan, his mother died of disease while his father died next when he was caught in a storm while fishing. He had just turned eight when his father died, his birthday being October eight. It was a sad event, and one that left him permanently changed.

Whereas he had been a bright, inquisitive boy after the accident he had tried his best to stay cheerful, but his thinking had become erratic and dangerous.

He had once tried to eat animals raw when he had become hungry; he had taken too tempting the wild dogs in the forest and tried doing other dangerous stunts.

Worse still, was that he had taken to hanging out in that lunatics house.

Said lunatic was a decrepit old man, one who ranted on endlessly about gods and chaos and destruction. Of course, the teacher new that such beings existed, in this world where the Campione walked and Heretic Gods caused chaos, but what made the man a lunatic was about how he spouted to be a "prophet of the gods" of the pantheon. It irked the people to no end.

Soon after Abutin's parents had died, he had started listening to the lunatic more and more, and then once he had turned ten, the boy and the lunatic started having private conversations together. This of course had not gone unnoticed by the local populace, who decided it was best to avoid him.

Naturally the children took this as an excuse to bully him. When he had arrived the boy was eleven, and the bullying cases sometimes resulted in near death incidents, such as the time when they had nearly drowned him. After that, the teacher had taken it upon himself to raise and guard him.

Abutin was twelve now and the bullying had eased up, but they still happened occasionally.

Sighing, the teacher got up and told Dimalanta to lead the way.

Soon enough, they had reached the beach, where the boys where throwing sand and rocks at Abutin. For his part, Abutin did what he usually did; ignore them.

It was a strange and eerie thing. Abutin could ignore, no matter what insults, injuries, or misfortune fell upon him, even if it was fatal. It could be called being mature, but this attitude had nearly gotten him killed several times.

"Boy's stop this at once!" shouted the teacher.

Seeing him approach, the boys scattered, leaving Abutin alone with Dimalanta and the teacher.

"Thank you for telling me about this Dimalanta, you may go now." He said to the child.

"Okay!"

The teacher walked over to Abutin, who simply stood there, staring at the sea.

"Abutin, are you alright?" the teacher asked. The boy was covered in bruises, and sand caked his skin.

Abutin turned his head slowly towards him, "I'm fine teacher, really, and it doesn't hurt at all!"

The teacher couldn't tell if he was lying. The boy had shrugged of worse before, but none of them had ever once bothered to check if he was _affected_ by it. He would succumb to his wounds if they were grievous enough, but no-one had asked whether he actually felt pain.

The teacher had once contemplated taking him away from the island, and when he shared the idea with Abutin, he vehemently opposed the idea, saying over and over again, "He's waiting for me, and I'm waiting for him. We'll settle it soon!"

He had no-idea who 'he' was, but any further thoughts on taking him away from the island where no-longer entertained.

"We might as well take care of them anyway, come, Abutin." said the teacher.

"No, it's time, I'll wait here," was Abutin's response. The boy was grinning in a savage and disconcerting way.

"Who's here?" asked the teacher, who was suddenly very afraid,

"Amanikable."

"The deity of the sea?"

Abutin shook his head, "No, not some sea deity, just papa's killer."

There was a period of silence as the teacher digested what he had said. What on earth was he talking about?

"Teacher, can you wait for me at the village, I swear I'll be back soon," requested the twelve-year-old as he turned his head towards him.

"Why?

"There's a storm coming," he said simply.

The teacher was confused. The sky was clear with no sign of a storm anywhere.

"Please teacher, for me?" he said pleadingly, looking up at him with big, black eyes.

The teacher smiled and ruffled his hair, "Okay fine, but don't stay out too long, or you might get caught in the storm too."

"I don't plan to get caught in the storm, teacher, I plan to catch it for myself."

The teacher was more confused than ever.

* * *

The storm had come unexpected and devastating; it was all the villagers could do to retreat to higher grounds.

"Dimalanta, have you seen Abutin?!" the teacher shouted over the din.

"No teacher!"

Had the boy still not left the beach? Such a thought was terrible to imagine. If he was still there, he would have been torn to shreds!

As he was panicking over the state of Abutin and where he could be, he caught sight of the village lunatic going against the storm and proceeding towards the beach.

The teacher walked up to him, caught by a sudden surge of suspicion, "You! What do you know about this!"

The lunatic looked confused. "About what?"

"This!" the teacher shouted spreading his arm upwards and gesturing towards the storm.

Suddenly, the lunatic smiled, "Aaaaah, you wonder what is going on, no? Do not worry, it is simply young Abutin grabbing the reigns of his destiny."

"What do you mean!?"

"I was about to go to the beach, if you are curious as to what I talk about, why not follow?"

And so, against his better judgment, the teacher followed the lunatic to the beach, growing ever fearful of what he might find.

* * *

When they did get to the location, none of his fears or suspicions could have prepared him for what he saw.

There, on the beach head, was a man, no, an entity. It's very being symbolized the sea; he could feel the powerful waves rush to and fro in his muscles and feel the storms gathered in his eyes. The teacher knew instinctively what he was and that he had caused the storm.

A Heretic God.

Creatures that tower above humans, things that change landscapes at their whims and hold powers beyond the imaginations of the common man, creatures that could only be stopped by similar beings, such as the Campione.

Upon closer inspection, the Heretic God appeared to be wrestling. It's muscles standing out with the effort.

"But how is that possible? The only things that can stand up to a Heretic God are other Heretic Gods, or Campione, and the closest Campione is in Japan . . . "

Who was keeping him at bay?

"Don't look so confused, it should be obvious who would fight him. After all, did you not come here to see him?" said the lunatic.

With a start of realization, the teacher realized who exactly was wrestling the Heretic God.

It was little Abutin.

"Abutin!" he called out, only to be pulled back by the lunatic.

"Don't disturb them you fool!" he hissed. "This is between them."

"What are you talking about!? That's a Heretic God, Abutin will be killed!"

"Does he look dead to you, Teacher?" he said, pointing towards were the two where wrestling.

Indeed as he looked, Abutin was putting up a tremendous fight, neither fighter willing to give ground to the other. The pushed, shoved, punched, kicked head-butted and bit, but neither of them would fall. The Heretic God had even called upon the power of the sea to aid him in this fight, using the storm to throw things at the child, who dodged them in spite of the strong winds.

"But that's . . ."

"Impossible? Tell me, to do the impossible and defeat a Heretic God; does that not remind you of anything?"

It did.

"Campione . . ."

"Little Abutin is not aspiring to be a Campione, this battle is merely a boy getting revenge for his father. The two that fight now are merely debt and collector. This, I think, is why Abutin can fight so evenly with him. Were it anyone else, they would have long since perished.

But this is simply the beginning of his destiny. He will change after this, and he will do great things, I feel proud that I could help him achieve that much."

And with that, the lunatic walked away from the teacher, who stared in awe as the little slip of a boy who had once been his student, flipped the Heretic God Amanikable over his shoulders, and unto the ground.

The Heretic God did not rise.

Panting and kneeling on the floor of the beach, the young boy, no, Campione rose up, his face sweltering with triumph.

His cry of victory could be heard from across the earth, and the land underneath him trembled as they accepted the presence of His Majesty, The Eight Campione.


	2. He Who Killed The Storm

**AN:** _Well hello everybody! Just a nice little update here, hope you enjoy!_

_Nothing much to say here except for read, review and if feel the need to, critique!_

_Anyway, to those waiting for Rosario's and Phantasms, I will update this weekend, hurrah!_

* * *

_I've done it._

_I've avenged father._

_But why is it . . ._

_That it feels so empty . . . ?_

* * *

The teacher looked at Abutin, who simply stood there while the body of his foe dissapeared into nothing. The boy stared at the sky, which had yet to stop raining, letting the drops of water run down his face.

The teacher nearly jumped in surprise when the Heretic God suddenly spoke.

**"You wonder child why you feel nothing?"**

The boy showed no sign of reacting, still staring at the sky. The Heretic God continued speaking.

**"It is because you have accomplished your true objective, you greedy, curious child of the earth . . ."**

Abutin still did not react.

**"Without that thin reasoning of vengeance that you hid behind, your true motive comes to light . . ."**

The Heretic God's body had mostly dissapeared now, dispersing into lights that slowly danced around Abutin.

**"Ah . . . well, you will come to realize why in due time. My time is up . . . for slaying me . . . I bestow upon you the name . . .**

**"Kamatayan ni Amanikable . . . the one who killed the sea . . ."**

The Heretic Gods body disappeared completely, yet his voice echoed on.

**"You . . . are _destined_ . . . for _greatness_ . . . child . . ."**

Abutin looked down at where the Heretic God had been, now surrounded completely by the blue lights that had come from him. Slowly, the lights floated upwards and away from him going towards the sky and fading away.

There was a long period of silence, the only sound being the pattering of the rain on the sand and sea.

The teacher, who had been awed into silence, spoke up. "A - abutin, are you . . . okay?"

What a stupid question, he thought. Of course he was okay, a Campione will always emerge healthy after their first victorious fight against a Heretic God.

But to acknowledge he was fine was to acknowledge that he had defeated a Heretic God, and that would mean he was now a Campione. Something the teacher had not quite wrapped his head around.

Abutin did not answer, but moved instead towards the sea.

"Abutin?"

Abutin looked at the mass of water in front of him. A vast sea teeming with life.

He raised his hands and the sea followed his command, rising with them.

Abutin manipulated the water, forming them into shapes, shooting them into the air or far into the distance.

Suddenly, he kicked forward with as much force as he could. The reaction following the action was tremendous.

The sea roared as it split all the way down to the bottom. The division stretched farther than the eye could see.

Abutin did not realize it, but he had been grinning fiercly the entire time, his eyes lit up with a spark of something . . . vicious. Something vicious and greedy.

Whatever it was, it scared the Teacher.

And then the moment passed, and Abutin began laughing, a cheery, childish laugh that reminded the Teacher that Abutin was still a child underneath all his newfound power.

Well perhaps not, he had faced down a Heretic God and lived, no adult could do that much less a child.

"Teacher is that you?" said Abutin, only now taking notice of him.

The teacher put up a smile, "Yes it is Abutin, you . . ." he found it hard to continue, not really knowing what to say.

"Um . . . I'm not going to scold me, are you?"

"Good heavens no! Why ever would you think that?" The very idea that he could scold Abutin now was both hilarious and horrifying. Really, the boy could probably kill him with both hands tied behind his back while blindfolded.

And probably by accident too.

"Well, you told me not to do anything dangerous, but I sort of got into a . . . fight, with a . . . well, erm don't think I'm crazy or anything but I got into a fight with a . . ."

The boy trailed off, mumbling silently, as if afraid to finish. It was at this ppint that the teacher realized that for all Abutins newfound god-like power, he was still a child in mind with no prior knowledge of the supernatural world.

"A god?"

"Yeah, a go . . . d" Abutin said, trailing off near the end. His next words were almost a whisper. "You know?"

"I know," he said simply. "Does this bother you?"

"Well um . . . you're not mad?"

The teacher sighed and approached Abutin. When he was closed enough, he knelt down to meet his eyes.

"Abutin, do you realize what's happened to you?"

Abutin thought about it for a moment before answering. "Um, I inherited the powers of a god?"

"Correct. Now, what makes you think I could do anything to you if I tried?"

" . . . huh?" was all Abutin could muster, after thinking on it.

"Correct again. Now, tell me, what do you plan on doing from now on?"

From the confused look on Abutin's face, it appeared he had not planned that far.

The teacher sighed, "Abutin, asides seven others, you posses more power than anyone in the world. You could do anything you wanted, and only a handful could keep up with you, much less could stop you."

Abutin's mouth was open, and his brain seemed to go static trying to comprehend what the teacher had said.

"Uh." he finally said.

Once again the teacher sighed. "Lets talk about this later, for now, lets get out of this rain."

The two proceeded to walk back to the village in silence.

* * *

The pair entered the evacuation center, a relatively large building situated on top of a mountain. It was sturdy, but t's location was inconvenient because of it's distance from the village. Still, it had sufficed for now.

"Teacher, you're back!"

Dimalanta approached the teacher with a worried expression on his face. "Are you okay, you've been out in the storm the entire time. People were worried when they couldn't find you."

"Don't worry about me Dimalanta, although it would be nice if I could get a towel and some dry clothes."

The boy nodded and with a quick wave at Abutin and the teacher,went to fetch the items. The teacher turned towards the people present in the evacuation center.

"Everybody, the storm has let up, you can all return now. The village hasn't been badly damaged and I'm sure you can return to your daily lives very soon."

The people who heard sighed in relief and went to spread word. Soon everyone was gathering what possessions they had brought with them and heading back out to the village.

"Hey, you, brain-damaged, where were you huh!?"

_Oh no . . ._

A group of kids approached Abutin, looking no worse for wear despite the storm.

"While we were busy helping out evacuate, where'd you run off to?"

"He probably went to help out that old lunatic."

"I don't see him, think he died?"

"Ha! You hear that weirdo, so, what happened, did your crazy old pal die or what?"

Abutin didn't answer, in fact, he had not been paying attention to them at all, instead focusing on a small droplet of water that slid down his arm. Unseen by them, the droplet began sliding up and down around his arm, making lively patterns on his skin.

"Hey were talking to you!"

Abutin still paid them no mind.

"Tch, so you think you can ignore us again huh?!"

The largest boy moved towards Abutin, and before the teacher could stop him, punched him right in the jaw.

"Gaah!" the boy cried out in pain.

His hand, the one he'd used to punch Abutin had started to swell, badly.

"My hand, my haaand!" he cried.

Abutin on the other hand, simply stood up again, feeling the place where he'd been hit.

"Huh, strange, it doesn't hurt . . ."

With a look of curiosity on his face, he turned towards the boys. "Hey, hit me again."

"W-what?"

"I said, hit me again. You hit me earlier, but for some reason I didn't get hurt, instead he did. I want to know how that happened, hit me again."

At this point, some of the boys were looking scared or nervous, while others had a look of impotent rage upon their face.

"Don't get cocky you little weirdo!"

"W-wait, Aliangan, somethings not right here, let's drop it for today," one of them cautioned.

The one that had shouted turned to him, "What, don't tell me you're afraid of him now?"

"N-no, but come on. their's something seriously wrong here. I d-don'y know what, but Abutin's got a weird look in his eyes."

"He always looks weird you idiot!" he shouted. "Tch, fine, I'll show you."

Walking towards Abutin, who had been waiting, a patient look on his face, the boy cocked his fist back for a punch.

_WHAM!_

"GYAAAH!"

The boy crumpled on the floor, nursing his hand much like the one earlier. He had put much more force into the strike, however, and thus was rewarded with significantly more pain.

"Hmm, my body seems to have gotten stronger. I wonder what would happen if _I_ punched instead . . .?"

The teacher, who had remained inactive at this point due to a combination of fear and curiosity suddenly moved. Placing his hand around Abutin's shoulder he said, "Abutin, I need to talk to you about something, if you don't mind."

Abutin stopped, his fist cocked backwards, "Oh, um, sure . . ."

The teacher led Abutin away from the boys. Once outside of hearing range from anyone, he sighed and slumped his shoulders in relief.

"Teacher?"

The teacher looked at his former (because there was no way he could continue being his student, not under these circumstances) student with a weary and slightly bemused look.

"Abutin, honestly, you should know better than that. You could have killed him if you punched at full strength."

Abutin had a confused look on his face, "What do you mean teacher?"

"Abutin, you are no longer human. As of now you have the body of a god, being able to bend water isn't the only gift Amanikable gave you."

A look of understanding crossed the Campione's face when he realized what was implied.

"Oh . . ." he said, "teacher, how is it you know about things like this?"

It slightly disturbed the teacher that he did not seem perturbed in the least by his great transformation.

The teacher had not intended to tell anyone on the island about his other profession, but with Abutin as he was now, he didn't really have a choice.

"Asides from being a teacher and missionary, I was also an Exorcist once, maybe I still am. Abutin, do you know what an Exorcist is?"

Abutin searched his memory for the meaning, "Oh, you mean the ones that banish evil spirits in your religion, right? Kind of like a shaman."

"True, but we are _more_ than that, me _especially_. The point is Abutin, that there are many things that exist in this world that you don't know about, and I know of them, and of people like you."

Abutin was once again silent as he digested this. A whole new world, filled with things that he'd never even known about. To most people, the thought would have been met with indifference, or perhaps even fear. After all, humans were most comfortable with what they were familiar with, and tended to shun the unknown.

But for Abutin, the only thing on his mind was . . .

_. . . exciting_

Abutin could barely contain his excitement. "So many things I don't know . . . so many things to discover!" he thought. A childish, grin, filled with godlike excitement crept unto his face, and made his curiosity known to the world.

The two words that left his mouth that day forever seared itself into the memory of the teacher, and with it began his world shaking quest, and in the future, these words would be his creed, code and _demand_.

**_"Show me."_**


End file.
